Stressed Spelled Backwards
by Crittab
Summary: Jeff and Annie are stress eaters. Friendship ficlet.


**Title: **Stressed Spelled Backwards

**Rating:** PG

**Spoilers: **None

**Warnings: **Might make you hungry

**Words: **1,423

**Disclaimer: **I down own Community, yo

**Summary:** Jeff and Annie are stress eaters. Friendship ficlet.

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**Stressed Spelled Backwards**

Jeff hates being stressed. He hates it for all of the reasons that one might expect, like the headaches it gives him, the unpleasantness of being rushed, the sick feeling of knowing that he may not get everything done, and the disaster that is actually having to put effort into something. He hates feeling pressured, and he hates feeling like he's failing at the second rated Community college in the Greendale area.

But most of all, he hates stress because of his natural, instinctual, unstoppable reaction to it. Simply, Jeff is a stress-eater. And not fruit and vegetables and egg whites. No. He eats pastries. Carb-laden, no-good, fully-fattening, spare tire-inducing, diabetes-causing, late-night-cramp-invoking pastries. He eats things like donuts and bagels and cake (with icing!). He's even been known to down a hoagie now and again. One time last year, he bought a pack of Oreos and ate the whole thing in fifteen minutes.

Stress is the devil—and it comes with a smooth, creamy filling.

And is usually washed down with hot chocolate, or coke. Sometimes both.

So Jeff isn't terribly surprised to find that his final exams in his final year at Greendale take him here: to the Lazy Bird Cafe (an odd title that in no way alludes to the products offered), where they sell the most decadent and disgustingly fattening products one could find anywhere in Colorado. Lazy Bird is owned by the greatest pastry chef Jeff's ever had the misfortune of meeting (a fact he has never and _will never_ divulge to his good friend Shirley). His name is Carlos Venzuza and he has studied and taught in culinary institutes around the world. He's won national and international awards for his new and exciting desserts, and he has cruelly brought his talents to Greendale, a town that needs no convincing when it comes to sitting down for a giant piece of cheesecake (or three).

Jeff chats with Carlos for a few minutes before selecting a brownie to go with his giant mug of hot chocolate, two lemon squares and one giant piece of caramel cheesecake. Carlos has gotten to know Jeff all too well in the past four years, first becoming acquainted with him following the whole "getting caught with a fake degree" debacle, and then on a fairly consistant basis as Jeff wound through the twists and turns of getting a degree from Greendale. When he finally sits down, he looks down at his plate and feels two distinct and competing things: one, disgust at what he's chosen to purchase for consumption, and two, _must. eat. now._

And yes, in his mind, Jeff does talk to his desserts before he eats them. They have long conversations that sound remarkably like a conversation between lovers: "You have no idea how long I've wanted you." "You taste so good in my mouth." "Please, I need you inside of me _now._" "Oh, god, more! _More, more, more."_ "I feel like I'm going to explode!"...

And the like.

Jeff sips at his hot chocolate and watches the delicacies on his plate for a few moments, contemplating. He always does this; it makes him feel as though he has some semblance of control over himself even though he knows, Carlos knows and the damn squares and cake know that he's going to devour them like a lion would devour a gazelle. He's going to stalk them and take them down and bask in the warmth of them sliding down his throat and settling in the pit of his mostly empty stomach, and he's going to enjoy every last bite. And then he's going to go home and work out, and maybe make himself throw up, but that's not what he's concerned about right now, because the waiting period is just about over. Now he just needs to decide where to start. Chocolate. Lemon. Caramel... who goes first?

He swallows, almost ashamed at the way the food makes him salivate. It's so close. It's so good. He just needs to...

"I'll have a brownie and square," he hears from the counter behind him. His eyes open wide and he briefly considers making a stealthy escape so he doesn't get caught with a plate worth 1500 calories and two heart attacks.

"You're usual drink, Ms. Edison?" asks Carlos.

"God, I have a usual, don't I?" she asks. "I need to cut back." _Tell me about it_ Jeff thinks—about himself, not her.

"Nonsense," Carlos admonishes. "If I lost the students who come here during exam time, I'd be out of business tomorrow." He hears the twinkle of her giggle and feels his stomach lurch. They're almost through with the transaction. He either leaves now or faces the consequences.

"Well, in that case, the usual it is, Carlos."

He sits stock still, not moving, barely breathing, hoping she'll look right past him.

"Jeff?"

Dammit.

He squeezes his eyes tightly shut for a moment before slowly turning around and offering a wide, if entirely forced and fake smile.

"Annie! Hey. I didn't see you there." It's not really a lie. Technically he's only heard her voice. She responds with a genuine smile of her own and grabs her plate and mug from the counter, coming to join him.

"I'm surprised to see you here," she says, settling into the chair across the small table from him. "I thought you were allergic to things that aren't green."

"Yea, well, even I have my weaknesses," he says. Annie smiles and picked up her brownie, taking a bite.

"I hear you," she agrees. "Carlos is a mad genius." Jeff offers a half-smile.

"He's the worst thing that's ever happened to my waistline," Jeff jokes. He, too, takes a bite of his brownie, relishing in the way it's still warm from the oven. Annie looks at him sceptically.

"Please. You've gotten scary thin over the past few years."

"Thanks," he responds inappropriately. Annie rolls her eyes.

"So what brings you here tonight? I thought you had your Econ final tomorrow morning," she asks. Jeff nods.

"I do... that's what drove me to these extremes," he says, gesturing to the pile of sweets on his plate. Annie raises an eyebrow.

"I thought stress led you to the gym."

"No, everything _but_ stress leads me to the gym. Stress leads me to Carlos," he admits.

"Ahh, so you're a stress eater," she says, sipping on her hot chocolate. "How am I just learning about this?"

"Well, I don't exactly promote it," he says. "I'm not really proud of it." Annie shakes her head.

"Jeff, it's fine. If you can't eat junk when you're going insane, when can you?" Jeff frowns.

"I'd like to pretend that I have a healthy alternative, but I don't."

"Well you know what they say," she lets the sentence taper off as she takes a big bite of her brownie, downing it. Jeff's brow furrows.

"What do they say?" he prompts. He finishes his brownie and moves on to lemon square number one. Annie takes a moment to chew and swallow before finishing her thought.

"Stressed spelled backwards is desserts," she finally says. Jeff stops the square halfway to his mouth and gapes at her.

"Holy crap," he says after a moment.

"What?"

"It's just..." he takes another moment. "This feels like a huge revelation right now," he finally says. Annie bursts out laughing. It takes Jeff a moment but he finally joins in.

"You need to loosen up, Jeff," she said, nibbling at her own square. Jeff bites the inside of his lip and nods.

"Yea, probably." She reaches across the table and puts her hand on his, giving him a very serious look.

"The first step is admitting you have a problem," she says before quirking a grin. Jeff rolls his eyes, but can't keep the small smile off of his face.

"Which problem am I copping to right now?" he asks. She giggles.

"Probably the one that's going to have you doing 200 sit-ups and attending an over-eaters anonymous meeting tonight." Jeff narrows his eyes.

"You're an evil genie," he says. Annie just giggles and pulls her hand away from his, popping the rest of her square into her mouth. Together, they finish their snacks and eventually head back to their study caves to finish preparing for the next day. Jeff doesn't throw up, or die, or have a heart attack later that evening. He counts that as a win.

And he has a cool new catch phrase for the next time he decides to stress-eat.

**End**

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_One of my friends notified me that stressed spelled backwards is desserts and my mind was blown. _


End file.
